


Lightly Stabbed

by lavendersblues (lonely_lovebird)



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02 AU, Whump, a lot of mac whump, and descriptions of jack sewing up a knife wound on mac, its not graphic for violence or gore but there is a lot of mentions of blood, james macgyver should get punched in the face, marked mature for the stab wound not the kiss, season finale fix-it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 12:16:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16618796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonely_lovebird/pseuds/lavendersblues
Summary: "And is there a particular reason you’re bleeding out on my bedroom floor?”“Well, it’s just a little too cold outside to be bleeding out on your porch.”---Title is a Brooklyn Nine-Nine quote because I am unoriginal.





	Lightly Stabbed

Jack clicked on the light in his bedroom, his pupils flinching at the drastic change - temporarily blinding him - but that wasn’t what had startled him.

No, he jumped at the sight of the _body_ on the floor that hadn’t been there when he’d left.

The golden halo was a dead giveaway to who was leaning against Jack’s bed with his head thrown back and eyes closed as he held his arm across his stomach - and Jack felt his heart bottom out to the floor.

Mac turned towards the door at the change in the light, eyes squinting against the glare in the direction of Jack who was still frozen at the door. Upon seeing Mac’s moving chest and his eyes clear, if tired, Jack’s panic slowly began to recede.

Mac smiled.

“Hey.”

Jack raised his eyebrows, sighing and tossing his coat on the bed. “ _Hey_?” The sarcasm in his voice was so thick he could have cut it with a butterknife. “Is that all you’re goin’ to say to me - is _hey_? You’ve been gone for twelve hours, Mac! And is there a particular reason you’re bleeding out on my bedroom floor?”

He dropped to his knees next to Mac who grimaced as Jack’s hands reached for the blood soaked shirt.

“Well, it’s just a little too cold outside to be bleeding out on your porch.”

Jack huffed a laugh under his breath, his pulse beginning to even out and his breath coming in deeper bursts. It was funny - it wasn’t funny because Mac was _bleeding_ \- but it was funny because it was what Jack would have said in the exact same position. The weather outside was a nice and brisk thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit, and Jack couldn’t blame Mac for taking refuge inside. What he couldn’t figure out was why Mac had come to Jack’s apartment instead of the Phoenix headquarters after being _missing for twelve hours_.

Jack had been determined to stay at Headquarters hoping for a lead on Mac’s whereabouts to follow, but Matty had ordered him in no uncertain terms to go home and get at _least_ eight hours so he would be fresh if she had to send him on a raid. She had promised to call him if anything came up in the night.

But now she wouldn’t have to, because Jack was currently bundling his missing partner into his arms to carry him out into the kitchen. Mac was biting a wad of his own shirt sleeve as Jack hoisted him into the air, his hoarse cry muffled by the fabric.

“I’m sorry, Mac,” Jack’s voice was strained and he felt his chest tighten. “Let’s get you at least cleaned and patched before I drag your ass to Matty.”

Mac whined and nodded, burying his face in Jack’s shoulder as Jack maneuvered them into the kitchen. He gingerly placed Mac in the wooden chair, checking that Mac’s hold on his bleeding wound was still secure, before going into the bathroom for the first aid kit.

The massive box was stocked for Judgement Day, and always would be if Jack had anything to say about it. It was practically a surgical kit in and of itself - all for moments like these.

Jack’s fiery panic had turned to ice during the first four hours of Mac’s disappearance. The cold fear had settled in, encasing his heart, waiting. Now, seeing Mac’s face since he had disappeared, Jack felt the chill melting. Jack set the box next to Mac with an over exaggerated huff as Mac gave him a crooked and pained smile.

“Any chance I could get a beer?”

Jack smiled, feeling his fingers itch with the desire to push Mac’s sweaty and dirty hair from his face. His hands made a half aborted attempt and he stretched, wiping his palms on his jeans. “You can have a shot of whiskey, but until I know how bad you’ve been done, Mac, ixnay on the beer.”

Mac huffed and gave another pained smile. “Yeah, okay. That’s fair.”

Jack grabbed the whiskey and a glass, pouring it for Mac quickly then moving to the sink to wash up. Mac gulped down the liquid, gasping as it burned it’s way down his throat. Jack saw the moment Mac felt the burn in the way he tilted his head and screwed up his face, and it made Jack smile.

The knowledge that Mac was safe and alive was slowly drumming its way into his heart. _Mac is here…. Mac is alive…. Mac is here…. Mac is alive…._

“Good stuff,” Mac coughed, wincing as he jostled his still as of yet unknown injury. “Okay, you ready over there yet, Doctor?” He tried to turn in his seat and hissed and Jack rushed back to his partner, face etched with concern.

“Alright, I’m clean enough. Up and over, lover boy.” He gestured with his hands and Mac snorted, tugging his shirt up and attempting to maneuver it off his torso. When it pulled against his lower abdomen, catching on the drying blood, he let out a shout, practically biting his tongue as he tried to keep the volume down.

“Easy now, hoss, don’t hurt yourself. And don’t worry about the neighbors either.” Jack took the bloodied shirt from Mac gingerly before tossing it in his kitchen trash. Deciding that it was better to wash his hands one more time, he scrubbed up as Mac sagged against the kitchen chair.

“Sorry, I just don’t want your neighbors thinking you’re torturing someone. I’m sure the gun collection and the land mines were already enough to freak anyone out,” Mac joked, his arm now limply laying against his bruised and bloody skin.

Jack dried his hands and moved to the first-aid box gathering what he thought he’d need, eyeing Mac’s bare torso trying to assess the damage. It was definitely a stab wound, but shallow. The cut was long, deep at one end, shallow at the other as though the assailant had been pushed away dragging the knife across and out as it exited.

It was going to leave one hell of a scar.

“How do you know they won’t think we’re doing _other_ activities worthy of shouting?” Jack waggled his eyebrows suggestively. It wasn’t his normal response - in any given situation he avoided suggesting anything sexual with Mac because he wasn’t sure how much he might let slip. But it was worth it to see Mac’s grimaced laugh at the implication that Mac’s pained noises could somehow be construed as pleasure by Jack’s neighbors.

Mac gave a sarcastic snort. “Right, like you bring home skinny blonde guys from the bar often enough that the neighbors wouldn’t get suspicious.”

Jack paused, taking in Mac’s forced expression - rueful and bitter, the statement heavy in a way that Jack hadn’t expected to hear. He watched Mac’s eyes stay fixed on a spot somewhere on the wall to Jack’s left and Jack wondered about the source of the anger and regret he could feel rolling off his partner in waves. He put the thought in the back of his mind for later evaluation.

“Well, you crawled in the window, so it’s not like they’d know anyway,” Jack finished lamely.

“Exactly,” Mac huffed as Jack knelt in front of the chair to get a better angle to address the injury. Mac groaned as he lifted his arms for Jack to get a better look. “Hence your neighbors are going to think you’re murdering someone.”

Jack began cleaning the area around the wound, the dried blood a serious roadblock keeping Jack from evaluating the damage fully. He was hit with a wave of nostalgia, nights in hostile countries where Mac and Jack had been each other’s only allies, patching one another up while they tried to finish a job or make it to exfil.

Mac made all kinds of gasping and hissing noises as Jack’s rough fingers brushed against his skin and the antiseptic touched the tear across his stomach.

“Sorry,” Jack’s voice was rough and strangled as he felt his heart clench with every jump in Mac’s muscles under the surface of the pale, bruised skin.

Mac chuckled darkly, wincing as he did so. “Alright I take it back, this does sound far more sexy than it actually is.”

Jack barked a laugh as he reached for the gauze. “I’m goin’ to wrap this, Mac, but you need stitches. This can hold you until we get you to Phoenix —,”

Mac’s hand stopped Jack’s arm abruptly, their eyes meeting again and it went through Jack like an electric shock. The emotions on Mac’s face were raw, open, and unguarded - and Mac was afraid.

“No,” he hissed. “Just…stitch it. Please.”

Jack stared at his partner incredulously. “Mac, please,” he’d never thought he’d have to beg Mac to do something for his own life. “You could get sepsis, gangrene, I don’t know where you’ve _been_ —,” Jack’s voice was strangled now, the emotions rising unbidden.

Mac had walked out of the office without a second word to Jack or Riley or Bozer, and Jack’d had to - he’d had to… Matty had told him that Mac had quit, because Matty actually cared. Oversight had been dismissive and Jack had refrained from punching his boss in the face for Mac’s sake.

He almost wished he had punched Mr. Oversight MacGyver just so he could say he had. (But if Mac wanted his job back, Jack wanted to be there with him.) But then he’d tried to go after Mac, and everything had gone downhill after that.

 _Twelve hours_.

“I’ll get antibiotics and a checkup from a normal hospital after you stitch me up. Then I’m going to call Riley, apologize if I have to, and ask her to fake me some medical records saying I got them from the Phoenix.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “You wanna tell me where you got this in the first place before I let Riley hack your way to a decent cover story?”

Mac’s laugh was rueful and he shook his head, letting the hair that was getting longer fall in front of his eyes, overshadowing the pain that Jack didn’t need to see to know was there. At the first tremor of Mac’s shoulders, Jack gave in and went to find his spare sewing kit.

Stashed in his bedside drawer, like normal, he was glad to see the kit was still stocked with the surgery needles and thread he’d stolen from the Phoenix for days like today.

Mac’s hand was pressed into his eyes when Jack returned. Jack heaved a sigh, pulling a chair up in front of Mac this time. He needed some semblance of comfort if his hands were going to be steady enough to stitch up the still slightly oozing wound on the love of his life.

Jack started sterilizing the needle and forceps. Mac was still tense, but he started to relax as the whiskey kicked in. His hand didn’t move from his eyes but Mac took a breath and Jack steeled himself for whatever happened next.

“I was going to leave,” Mac whispered, and Jack felt the words like a punch to the gut. His insides were immediately doused in ice and he forced himself to continue working on the preparations to avoid showing how much Mac’s words hurt.

“I was going to leave and never come back,” Mac added, the shame apparent in his tone. “And I was halfway to Quartzsite when the car decided to break down.”

Jack decided he wouldn’t ask where Mac had gotten the car.

“So I limped it to a truck stop outside of Palm Springs, which took me nearly twice as long as it had taken to even get out that far. I was mad, I mean I was out of it, Jack. I wasn’t thinking.” Mac finally looked at Jack and Jack was happy to see remorse painted on Mac’s face.

Jack held up the needle wordlessly and Mac nodded, continuing his story - pausing only to make a strangled and yelped inhale when Jack stuck the surgical needle through the layer of his skin. “And - _ah!_ I - I decided that I needed a better plan than… Get in a car and drive.”

Jack huffed a disbelieving tone under his breath. “You mean you didn’t just fix it up with duct tape and chewing gum?”

Mac looked at Jack with such a _MacGyver_ look that Jack smiled as Mac launched immediately into - “No, I fixed it up with the jug of orange juice, a plastic funnel, and my shoelace.” He wiggled the shoe that was missing it’s lace and Jack couldn’t help but smile.

Mac looked like he was about to jump into an explanation but Jack waved him off. “Alright, I get it, you’re a genius. This still doesn’t explain the brand new shiv line you’re sporting.”

“Right, I was getting there,” Mac amended, pausing as Jack tugged the suture and watching the skin pull itself shut with ease. It should have been disturbing to watch the way the pale skin sealed itself under the now small and barely visible stitch lines, but Jack had done it for himself multiple times in the field, and doing it for Mac meant he knew he could do it with as little pain as possible.

“Keep talking, I’m goin’ to grab some iodine,” Jack said quickly, remembering the bottle he had in the junk storage closet.

“You have iodine?” Mac called incredulously to his retreating back.

“Long story!” He grabbed the bottle from the work bag and hustled back to the kitchen where Mac was poking experimentally at the stitches.

Jack smacked Mac’s hand away quickly. “Stop. Don’t touch.” He unscrewed the lid to the iodine and poured some onto a strip of gauze that he cautiously applied to the newly sealed skin. It would hurt like a bitch when they took it off at the doctor's office the next day - or later today, he amended seeing the time on the clock - but it looked more like an Emergency Room had done up the stitches than a retired Delta Army Sergeant in his kitchen.

“Right,” Mac shook his head like a dog trying to dislodge water from his ears. “Anyway, I got the car back to where I had…acquired it.”

Jack laughed openly. At least Mac was being (mostly) honest about it.

“And where might that have been?”

Mac looked sheepish, looking away as Jack began to wrap the wound. Jack tried not to focus on his brain finally realizing how close he had been to Mac’s bare chest the entire time as he made sure the wrap was clean and precise.

“So, there’s this bar?” Mac somehow made it sound like a question and Jack smirked. “On my way to the Phoenix.” Jack nodded, he’d driven Mac enough times to work to know exactly what bar he was talking about. A seedy-looking affair, that most likely had serious crime being committed in and around it after midnight.

“Right,” Mac cleared his throat. “And every day for the last two months there’s been this car just sitting there. Honestly I thought it had been abandoned. It’s L.A. and it’s not uncommon for people to abandon cars in places with 24 hour parking.”

Jack knew all too well where this story was probably going but he let Mac finish because the details were likely different.

“Anyway I hot-wired the car and started out on the I-10 West, which was where it broke down in Quartzsite. It’s a piece of shit, honestly, so after improvising, I’m limping it back to the bar parking lot because I might as well put it back where I found it when this guy comes out, blowing up and shouting and that’s when I find out he’s the drug dealer that lives upstairs and…I stole his car.”

Jack buried his face in his hands. He could see it, Mac trying to reason with a hopped up drug dealer. Jack’s awkward genius might be a genius, but Mac might honestly be the dumbest man he’s ever met. (And he’s met Steve McGarrett.)

“So we…talked - I talked, he shouted.” Mac sighed, moving to run a hand through his hair but pulling up short at the sight of the dried blood on his hands. His face looked stricken and Jack wordlessly took hold of his hands and began using the antiseptic and cleanser to start wiping the blood off Mac’s hands and forearms.

“He pulled a knife,” Mac’s voice was strained and Jack couldn’t figure out why, as he continued to gently remove the streaks and stains on Mac’s skin. “And he happened to be a little faster. I left him in the dirt but not before he managed to give me a nice parting gift.” Mac’s breath shuddered as he inhaled and clenched his fingers briefly as Jack reached the dried blood at the joint of his elbow.

“How’d you get to my place?” Jack finally asked, looking up at Mac’s face which had turned an interesting shade of pink.

Mac shrugged awkwardly. “I walked.”

“With a _stab wound_ ?” Jack yelped. “You’re a nut-case, man, what about shock? And blood loss? You should have gone to a _hospital_ and I let you just talk me into Army first-aid!”

Mac’s face was crestfallen, only for a moment, before he schooled his features - but Jack saw it. Jack _saw_ and Jack started to understand. He might have been born in a barn, but he certainly hadn’t been born _yesterday_.

“I…wanted to see you,” Mac finally said, his voice subdued. “And it was only six blocks,” he added as an afterthought as if that made Jack feel any better. Jack’s chest _hurt_ and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his partner up and somehow make the emotional pain go away. He knew that Mac was hurting, in more ways than one, but he could only patch up the wounds on the outside.

“Mac,” Jack’s voice was heavy as he redirected the conversation. “You were gone for _twelve hours_ and I couldn’t find you. I didn’t know where you were, and I didn’t know if you’d…” It was Jack’s turn to take a shuddering breath as the words refused to pass his lips. “I looked everywhere, man.”

Mac at least had the decency to look somewhat ashamed as he hung his head. “I know, Jack. I’m sorry.”

Jack took a deep breath and felt the weight of the room around him. Mac was looking down at his clean hands, fiddling with his fingers as if he wanted a paperclip, and his face was red. Something from their earlier conversation, something Mac had said that Jack had tucked away for later, niggled at the back of his mind.

“Mac, did you…?” Jack trailed off. He didn’t know how to bring it up but it needed to be addressed. “Earlier, before I stitched you up, you said something.”

Mac quirked his lips upward. “Yeah, Jack I said a lot of things.”

“You said something about me bringin’ home skinny guys enough that the neighbors wouldn’t notice you, an’ I gotta say man - I’m not sure what to unpack first. But I think I’d like an explanation either way,” Jack finished, waiting for the inevitable second shoe to fall and Mac to take off again like he had the day before.

Mac froze like a deer in the headlights. “I mean,” Mac’s face grew even more red, the color traveling down his neck and across his shoulders and Jack belatedly realized they probably should have saved this conversation until after Jack had gotten Mac into a shirt.

“Jack,” Mac sounded nearly breathless and Jack loved and hated the thrill that went up his spine - that sound would be playing on repeat in future fantasies. “You… You’ve got to know. Don’t you?”

Jack shook his head slowly and hummed. “Nope, ‘fraid not. So why don’t you educate me.”

Mac’s chest started to turn red and Jack _really_ regretted ever bringing this up. He could only hope his stitches were solid enough to prevent Mac’s stab wound from springing a leak with the way his heart seemed to be pumping blood to the surface of his skin so diligently.

Mac took a deep breath and gripped his hands together tightly. “Jack, I don’t know how to… I thought you knew, it’s why I… left. Today.”

Jack waited. He was fairly certain it was clear that he still had no idea what Mac was even talking about and he knew the genius would get around to it eventually - Mac’s brain was funny like that. Jack was always two steps behind no matter how hard he tried to keep up.

Mac took an even deeper breath and Jack waited, hearing the gentle tick of the clock on the wall, the sounds of occasional traffic outside the window, and the upstairs neighbor’s dog walking across the floor.

“I thought you knew I was in love with you.”

Jack felt as if he’d just dropped from the top of the Superman ride at Six Flags Over Texas, the way his stomach suddenly bottomed out and his breath came in shorter bursts and his ears began to ring.

Mac watched him and he seemed to be saying something, and his face looked stricken, but Jack was trying very hard to clear the ringing in his ears. “…didn’t know, your face says it all. So at least I can leave knowing —,” Jack let a predatory grin slide onto his face as he reached his hands out gently before taking hold of Mac’s shoulders.

“Wha—?”

Jack swallowed down Mac’s noise of confusion with glee, pressing his lips to the clueless genius’ with fervor. Mac froze in place for a moment before his brain caught up to his body and Jack found himself with a lap full of partner, Mac’s mouth hungrily chasing his own.

Jack’s hands found their way to Mac’s hair, fingers tangling themselves in the strands. The noise Mac made when Jack tugged gently was somewhere between a whine and a growl and it sent a spark racing down Jack’s spine.

Mac’s tongue had just started to work it’s way around Jack’s mouth, exploring and teasing, when Mac pulled back with a hiss, nearly unbalancing himself from Jack’s lap. Ever grateful for his military reflexes, Jack caught Mac before he could hit the floor and they both froze, panting and a little out of breath.

Mac’s eyes were round, his pupils blown wide - and Jack hoped it was more out of pleasure than pain. He glanced down at the bandages but couldn’t spy any red so he carefully let Mac slide closer once again, settling himself nearly front to front with Jack.

Both Mac and Jack took ragged breaths and Jack took his chance to run his nose over the crook of Mac’s neck and down his bare shoulder, enjoying the soft skin that was still a beautiful crimson color. Mac shivered and Jack ran his hands up Mac’s back gently, enjoying the expanse of skin that was available to touch. (He really needed to get Mac a shirt before Mac caught a chill in the brisk California early morning. Seriously. But…he would after this.)

“Honestly thought you would hate me,” Jack mumbled against Mac’s skin. “If you knew how I much I love you.”

Mac breathily laughed, gripping tightly to Jack’s shoulders as he gasped in pain again. “Damn, I need to stop doing that.”

Jack pressed a languid open mouthed kiss to Mac’s collarbone and Mac took in a hiccuping breath, his fingers digging harder into Jack’s shoulders. Jack was about to continue working his way around, mapping every inch of Mac’s skin he could reach from where he was positioned in the chair, when he realized Mac hadn’t finished explaining.

He grinned, pressing a feather-light kiss to the skin he had just been loving on before leaning back. “Okay,” he broke the pleasurable silence. “You never explained that ‘skinny blonde’ comment,” he poked Mac teasingly in the ribs and Mac leaned away with an awkward smile. “You think I’m bringing home some ‘replacement’ Mac or somethin’?”

Mac flushed, surprisingly, an even darker red and shook his head in embarrassment. “No - I just.” He took a deep breath. “Even in my wildest dreams I never thought I was your type. I always figured you for more of the Delta Force, Navy SEAL, _superhero_ kind of guy.”

Jack briefly thought of Steve McGarrett, shuddered at the mental image, and tugged Mac forward to lean against his chest, making sure to keep pressure off the stitches. He nosed against Mac’s jawline and cheek before capturing his lips gently and sucking at the bottom one. Mac groaned, deep and low.

“Baby, you are _exactly_ my type,” Jack smirked, laughing as Mac gave his shoulder a solid thump with his fist. Careful of Mac’s stitches, Jack bundled up his partner and made his way to the bedroom with care.

Tonight they could lie in the bed Jack hadn’t shared with anyone in years - not in the way they would tonight - trading slow and lazy kisses back and forth over the pillows, hands free to touch and feel, breaths mingling like puffs of steam in a morning fog. And after Jack hauled Mac’s stupid, beautiful, tight genius ass to the doctor's office in a few hours, they’d get Mac fixed up and find out what level of exertion he’d be allowed without fear of reopening his wound.

Then, Jack thought with a wicked grin as he climbed into bed behind Mac, wrapping his favorite person in his arms, _then_ the real fun could start.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I take extensive liberties with stab wounds to the abdomen? Yes. Am I sorry? No.
> 
> Disclaimer: If you get stabbed, go to the damn hospital, don't go to your crush's house and ask them to sew you up.
> 
> Thanks to [KatieComma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieComma) for the beta and being the cheer squad!
> 
> Based on a tumblr post from [@write-it-motherfuckers](https://write-it-motherfuckers.tumblr.com/post/179978506182/is-there-a-particular-reason-that-youre) on tumblr
> 
> Come gush about MacDalton with me on [TUMBLR](https://lavendersblues.tumblr.com/)!


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